“Otto, what is it?” Calia hurried over to discover the black stray on the outside of the same window, in the same position as Otto, with his front paws on the outer sill, standing there looking in. “Well, hello there, Wolf.”
Mairwen snapped her fingers and uttered something that Calia didn’t quite catch. Wolf bared his teeth again, then dropped out of sight and loped away.
“Maybe he’s hungry,” Calia said to Mairwen. She hugged Otto and kissed him on the top of his head. “We need to be kind to those less fortunate. Remember how it was before you had a home?”
Otto responded with another low, rumbling growl.
Calia turned to Mairwen. “Maybe Wolf is hungry,” she repeated. “Shouldn’t we feed him?”
“His hunger will be seen to later,” Mairwen said. “Ye will find he is verra particular about what satisfies him.”
What an odd way to describe feeding a stray. But Calia shook it off. It must be another Scottish thing, like petrol versus gas. “I just hate to see any animal go hungry.”
“He will be all right, lass.” Mairwen waved her back to the table. “Come. Sit. Our tea is ready.”
Teacups, teapot, sugar, cream, slices of lemon, and a tiered tray of petite sandwiches waited in a tempting array, but the real estate agent was nowhere to be found.
“Will Keeva not be joining us?” Calia seated herself while glancing back at Otto, still standing guard at the window. “He doesn’t like that stray at all, which is strange. He got along with the other dogs at the shelter with no problems.”
“Ye are his now, and he prefers not to share ye.” Mairwen poured them both some tea, then seated herself at the head of the table. But rather than sip from her cup, she rattled her silver bracelets higher on her arms and pulled a deck of cards from the depths of the voluminous sleeve of her blouse. “How do ye feel about tarot cards, lass?”
After adding a slice of lemon to her tea, Calia struggled to find the politest way possible to say she didn’t put much stock into all that stuff and nonsense. “I can’t say that I’ve ever had anything to do with them.” There. That sounded harmless enough.
Mairwen smiled down at the cards as she shuffled them. “Ye dinna believe in anything ye canna see or touch. Do ye?”
The older woman’s ability to read her so accurately sent another shiver through her. “Life has taught me that lesson well,” Calia said, with more bitterness than she intended. She sipped her tea and glumly realized she was trapped since neither Keeva nor Mairwen had yet handed over the keys to her new kingdom. She forced a smile. “It’s easier to trust what you can see and touch.”
“Scotland is full of magic though, ye ken? It flows through the Highlands like the true lifeblood that it is.” As Mairwen laid out the cards one by one, she nodded. “I decided on ye because of these cards. They told me all about ye.”
“And what did they say?” Calia couldn’t very well leave without the keys, so she had no choice but to humor the eccentric lady and play along.
“That there is hope,” Mairwen said. She tapped on a card with a picture of a large, golden star. “Yer time of waiting has reached its end.” She scooted the plate of sandwiches closer. “Cress and butter or egg?”
“Neither, thank you. I snacked all the way from Inverness.” That was a lie, but a harmless one. “I appreciate the tea, but I’m really eager to get into my new home and start settling in.” Mairwen couldn’t possibly understand how anxious she was to get there, get unpacked, and have no one to talk to other than Otto. She had peopled about as much as she could stand for one day.
“Verra well, then.” Mairwen rose, went to the long cabinet against the wall, and retrieved a worn, wooden container about the size of a shoebox. She returned to the table and set it in front of Calia. “Yer keys, lass, and the wee memento I mentioned. For luck.”
The hinges on the box squeaked with age and disuse as Calia pried open the lid that really didn’t want to cooperate and reveal its contents. Inside was a large iron ring with several antique skeleton keys, the sort that people collected and mounted in frames on their walls for decoration. “These are too pretty to use.”
“Those are the keys to yer future, lass. Should they not be pretty?”
Yet another surprising shiver rippled across Calia. Mairwen’s words hit entirely too close to home. “I suppose they should.” Along with the keys was a black and gold medallion decorated with Celtic knots that formed the head of a wolf staring straight at her. It was on a thick, black cord, the simplest of necklaces, and yet it seemed perfect.
“For luck,” Mairwen said, “and protection.”
“It’s lovely.” Cradling the medal in her palm, Calia rubbed her thumb back and forth across its raised design. As it warmed to her touch, it soothed her, calmed her, and made her worries about all the what-ifs more manageable. How strange was that? I must really be tired. My mind is playing tricks on me. “Thank you so much. I didn’t realize wolves were such a powerful symbol for Scotland.”
“They are, and they aren’t.” With another of her cryptic looks, Mairwen nodded at the necklace. “Wear it in good health, lass. As I said, ’tis for good luck and protection.”
To humor her hostess, Calia slipped it on and patted it in place on her chest. “For good luck and protection.” Admittedly, as soon as its weight settled in the valley between her breasts, she felt better. Oh well, it is pretty.
“Even if ye dinna believe in luck or magic, they still believe in ye.” Mairwen winked. “Good day to ye, now. I am sure I shall see ye around the village. If ye have any questions about the cottage, contact either Keeva or myself. It is a verra old place, but still has good, solid bones.”
“Thank you. I look forward to many happy years in it.” She grabbed up the keys, patted her leg for Otto to join her, and headed for the door before Mairwen delayed her again. “Good day to you. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Mairwen nodded. “Aye, lass. The pleasure was all mine.”
“There it is, Otto. Look, isn’t it gorgeous?” Calia took in a deep, cleansing breath and let it out. Finally. Home.
